


for now and for always

by polyamory



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jealousy, Reader-Insert, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 09:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7428550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polyamory/pseuds/polyamory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two times Jon Snow comes to your aid, making everybody think that the two of you are dating. Which would be marvelous, really, the only problem is that he’s a lord and you’re a servant girl. Jon doesn’t see it that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for now and for always

**Author's Note:**

> some warnings for misogynistic language and unpleasant behavior in the first scene but it doesn’t lead anywhere, language 
> 
> this takes place in an AU where Ned refuses Robert, never goes to King’s Landing and Jon never goes to the wall and basically everyone lives happily at Winterfell because I said so

You make your way quickly through the halls of Winterfell, the smell of stew rising from the covered tray in your hands.

"Oi, wench!" A rough voice calls behind you.

There's no one around but you. You walk faster, hoping that whoever it is will leave you alone.

"I meant you, little servant bitch," the man says again, closer this time.

You turn around before he has a chance to grab you, hoping the tray between you will be enough to keep him at bay.

The man is taller than you – though what kind of feat is it for a grown man to be taller than a nineteen year old girl – and his face is curled in a sneer.

You don't recognize him, but you recognize the lion on his chest. Great, he's one of the visiting Lannister soldiers, escorting the Lord Hand on his visit to the Wall.

"Won't you look at me, eh?" he asks and the smell of ale hits you like a brick wall. You suppress a grimace, drunk men are your least favorite. "What're you carrying there?"

"Supper for Lady Sansa, my lord. I must be on my way." You try for a small curtsy and start to turn away from him but he darts around you, quicker than he looks and cuts off your escape route.

"Not so quick, little girl," he says, his grin entirely unpleasant. "Are you in a hurry?"

He takes a step forward and you stumble backwards until your back hits the wall. Stupid, you curse yourself, let yourself be backed into a corner by a drunken beast.

"Hey!" The shout rings loud in the empty hallway and your heart jumps up into your throat as you see Jon Snow approaching, his expression thunderous. "What's going on here?"

"We're just having a little chat. Nothing to see, boy. Hurry along," the Lannister man says, not intimidated by Jon.

"I wasn't asking you," Jon spits, turning to face you.

"I'm to bring Lady Sansa her supper," you say, willing your voice not to waver. You're not going to give this rotten man the satisfaction of seeing you scared.

"Let the Lady be on her way then," Jon says taking a step closer to the Lannister man.

"Lady?" the man scoffs. "This one ain't no lady, she's a kitchen bitch."

"Watch your tongue," Jon says, voice almost rising to a shout. "Or I'll rip it out for you."

"You?" The man laughs but the sound is cut off abruptly by a low growl as Ghost slinks around the corner. "Whatever," the man says and now  _ his _ voice is wavering. "I don't want a bastard's sloppy seconds anyways. Have fun fucking your kitchen bitch!"

And with that the man turns tail and runs.

"[Y/N], are you alright?" Jon asks, his expression turning immediately from stony to worried.

"Yes," you keep your head down, your eyes on the ground. "Thank you, my lord," the words are a reminder to yourself. Jon Snow is highborn. You are not.

"Are you sure you're quite alright?"

"Yes, I am." Your knuckles are white with how hard you're holding on to the tray but you manage a small smile, hoping it's reassuring instead of strained. "But I must be on my way."

You turn away and this time no one stops you. Instead Jon falls into step at your side.

"I'll accompany you," he says when you glance sidelong at him and Ghost huffs as if in agreement. "In case that man is still waiting for you. Or anyone else."

"Is that what you do when you're not at the feast," you can't help yourself asking. "Skulking around the halls, scaring Lannister man like little children?"

"Only when they're terrorizing my people," Jon says darkly. "The sooner they leave the better."

"Yeah," you sigh. "Can't disagree with you there."

"I am sorry about what he said," Jon says after a few moments. "About... us." He's staring straight ahead and you could swear there's a faint blush of color in his cheeks, but that could just be the shadows playing tricks. Or wishful thinking.

"About–" it takes you a moment to realize what he means. "Oh, about that we're fucking."

"Yes, that." His voice sounds strangled and now Jon's definitely blushing.

You're still looking at him from the corner of your eye so it takes you a moment to notice that you've reached Sansa's rooms.

"Thank you, Lord Snow," you say as he opens the door for you.

"[Y/N]? We were wondering where you– is everything alright?" Sansa asks, worry creeping into her tone as she looks at you. You must look worse than you thought. Hopefully not as bad as you feel.

"Yes, milady, I'm sorry to keep you waiting." You try to put on a smile, not wanting to worry Sansa.

"Jon?" Sansa asks doubtfully.

Jon glances at you and your widen your eyes at him, willing him to understand.

"I'm afraid I help up your friend," Jon says to Sansa. "Through no fault of her own."

"Of course not," Sansa nods. "Come, [Y/N], sit." She pats the chair next to her.

You glance over your shoulder at Jon, giving him a grateful look, and he smiles back briefly before pulling the door shut behind himself.

Sansa watches you with a piercing gaze and you're all too aware of how your hands have started to shake now that you're safe. Lady places her great head on your knee, whining softly, and you reach a hand down to pet her.

"Eat," Sansa instructs you, placing a bowl before you. "I do so hate those Lannister men."

* * *

The great hall is filled with laughter and music, lit up bright for Sansa's nameday celebration yet you feel more than a little desperate as Ethan, one of the stable boys, shuffles you around the dance floor. You wince as he steps on your toes, again, and he blushes awkwardly.

"Sorry, sorry."

The song ends and Ethan looks at you hopefully.

"One more dance?"

"I'm afraid this dance was promised to me," a familiar voice cuts in before you have to come up with an answer. "And every other after that."

Ethan's eyes go wide and you can't help but feel bad for how grateful you are when he's swallowed up by the crowd.

"You know," you say as you turn to face your savior, "it's quite improper to dance only with one person the entire night. People will talk."

"Would you rather dance with Ethan again?" Jon says, raising an eyebrow. His hand comes to rest lightly on your waist as he steps closer.

"How do I know you're any better at dancing than him?" You grin at him as he takes your hand in his.

"You'll just have to wait and see," Jon grins back and promptly steps on your toes. You can't help but burst out laughing and Jon flushes a brilliant flustered red.

"Maybe we should just sit," you manage, still laughing as you pull him down on a bench away from the dancing. "At least you're a better conversationalist," you say, bumping your shoulder against Jon's

"Now you're just mocking me," he grumbles, still flushed.

"I would never, my lord."

He frowns at your words, taking one of your hands in his. "Please, Jon."

You hesitate for a moment, all too aware of Lord and Lady Stark sitting at the head of the hall.

"Jon, we shouldn't."

"Why not?" he asks, turning sideways on the bench to face you. There's a stubborn set to his jaw and his eyes are intense, holding your gaze.

"I'm a servant," you remind him.

"And I'm a bastard," he shrugs.

You're still trying to come up with an answer when someone approaches you. You don't immediately recognize the man, but he obviously recognizes you.

"[Y/N], may I–" he stops when Jon shoots him a frosty glare.

"No," Jon almost growls. It's quite amusing to watch.

"But you're not even dancing with her," the boy goes on, not as easily deterred. Ash, that's his name.

"We're having a conversation."

"Well, maybe the next song?" Ash asks, looking to you.

"No," Jon says and this time he really is growling.

You watch as Ash walks away, making his way over to his friends.

"Did you want to dance with him?" Jon asks, following your gaze.

"Now people are really going to talk," you say, ignoring his question.

"So let them," Jon shrugs. He's still holding your hand and you're suddenly overly aware of how close you're sitting, his knee pressed against your thigh.

"Jon," you sigh, your face twisting in a grimace.

"What if I want them to talk?" Jon's other hand comes up to cup your cheek, lightly at first, as if he's afraid you'll pull away, then pressing closer, a barrier between the two of you and the rest of the hall.

You can't help turning into the touch, just a little. His hand is warm and rough with callouses, but gentle still. You want to trace his jaw, feel his rough stubble under your fingertips, his soft lips against yours.

Instead you pull away when he leans closer.

His eyes snap up from where he was looking at your mouth and he looks so hurt it almost breaks your heart but you  _ can't _ .

"I'm sorry," you say and hope he can hear how much you mean it.

* * *

"Come on, [Y/N], spill!" Jeyne says, and the other girls giggle in agreement.

"What? My laundry water?" you laugh, flicking a few drops at Jeyne.

You focus on scrubbing the linens, up to your elbows in soapy water, hoping that maybe your friends will just drop the issue. No such luck.

"Tell us about Jon Snow's cock," Kara calls and Jane and Ellen laugh loudly.

You duck your head to hide your blush. "Don't know anything about anyone's cock."

"Didn't look like it last night," Ellen says.

"You were all there, so what more should I tell you?"

"About what happened afterwards," Kara says.

"Nothing happened," you laugh. "As I keep trying to tell you horrible gossip geese."

"Well, why?" Jeyne asks.

"Why what?"

"Why did nothing happen?"

You look up to stare incredulously at her. "Don't be silly."

"You're the silly one," Jeyne says.

"I certainly know what would've happened if Jon Snow had cupped my cheek like he wanted to be cupping my other cheek," Kara laughs. "If you know what I mean."

"Yes, Kara," you laugh. "We all know what you mean."

"Do you?" Kara asks, raising her eyebrows at you. "D'you know how to do it?"

"Yes, Kara," you roll your eyes with a fond smile. "I know how to do it."

"Then I don't see what the problem is," Kara shrugs, going back to her work.

"The problem," you say. "Is that he's a lord and I'm scrubbing his sister's underwear." You hold up the smallcloth as if to demonstrate.

"That's never stopped me and Theon," Ellen throws in with a cheeky grin.

"Yes, well," you mutter, scrubbing vigorously at the cloth.

"You like him," Jeyne says, gleeful laughter in her voice.

"Of course I like him," you grumble. "He's handsome and charming and strong and gentle."

"Jon Snow, charming?" Kara laughs. "You've got it bad."

"You're a great help," you say, but Kara is impervious to your sarcasm.

"No really," Ellen says, more earnest. "What  _ is _ the problem?"

"It's not proper," you say, the words coming out sharp and your eyes are prickling hot. You're not going to cry over a boy, you tell yourself, no matter how sweet he is.

"You worry too much, [Y/N]," Ellen says.

"Besides," Kara shrugs. "He's a bastard, nobody cares if he sleeps with a servant."

"Well, I don't just want to sleep with him," you say and it almost hurts to admit. There's a lump in your throat and you wipe at your eyes roughly.

"Aw now, don't cry," Jeyne says, all the teasing gone out of her. "He likes you."

"Can we  _ please _ talk about something else?" you ask and your voice only breaks a little.

You've never loved your friends more as in that moment, when Ellen immediately starts to chatter about some other gossip, Kara chiming in as Jeyne gives you one last worried glance.

* * *

"Come on, Snow," you hear Theon's voice just before you round the corner and stop dead.

"I don't want to come to the brothel with you," Jon snaps and you inch back further, trying to stay out of view. You've been avoiding Jon for the past few days, taking detours whenever you see him coming towards you, leaving a room as soon as he enters it.

But now there's no way to get to the stables without walking past him and Theon.

Maybe you can just wait it out until they leave.

"Bit of fun will do you good," you hear Theon go on. "Eh, Robb?"

There's a grunt from Robb. They must be getting ready to make a ride into town.

"A pretty whore sucking your cock and you'll forget all about that bitch of yours," Theon laughs.

"Don't call her that," Jon shouts and you can picture him clear as day, his angry frown, the set of his jaw.

"Hey, Jon," Robb says sharply. "Theon, lead the horses to the gate. I'll meet you there."

Theon grumbles something you can't quite hear and then there's silence for a moment.

"The girl from the feast, huh?" Robb says and now his voice sounds teasing. "What's her name again?"

"[Y/N]," Jon says and you can practically  _ hear _ him blush.

"You like her?"

"Yeah," Jon admits and Robb laughs.

"So then what have you been sulking about?"

There's a long pause and then Jon says something, too low for you to hear.

"What?"

"I said," Jon grumbles, "she doesn't like me back."

"Really? Cause from what I hear that's not the problem?"

"What?!" Jon squawks and he sounds just as surprised as you feel.

You're distracted from Robb's reply when you feel something nudging the back of your leg.

"Ghost," you whisper as you turn around, his red eyes looking up at you. "Shh, boy."

You crouch down to pet him, threading your fingers through his coarse fur.

"Don't tell on me, alright?" You grin at him and Ghost huffs at you. He almost looks accusing as you gather your skirts to stand, fleeing down the hall back the way you'd come.

* * *

The godswood is already occupied when you go to pray that evening. Jon is sitting at the foot of the weirwood tree, using his cloak as a blanket. He hasn't noticed you yet and you have half a mind to back away and come back later when a twig snaps under your foot, making him look up.

"[Y/N]!"

"My lord," you bow your head.

"Jon," he corrects you.

"Jon," you allow. "I'm sorry for disturbing you. I'll leave you to your prayer."

"No, please don't–" Jon starts. "You're not disturbing me, [Y/N]. I was actually just thinking of you."

His words make you blush and you can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

"Please, sit," Jon gestures beside himself, scooting over so there's space for you to sit on his cloak, too close together, not close enough.

You sit in silence for a moment, sending a prayer up to the gods to make this as pain free as possible.

"I wanted to talk to you," Jon says after a moment, then stops. You look over at him and catch him already looking at you. Jon blushes but doesn't look away as he says, "I like you, [Y/N]." The words make something erratic flutter in your chest like a moth along the inside of your chest. "I really like you. I don't care about what anybody else says. I– I want to show you that we can make this work, if you'll let me. Besides," he chuckles, "Robb already gave me his blessings."

He ducks his head when you laugh at that, remembering the conversation you overheard earlier.

Just then Ghost appears between the trees and comes over, plopping down at your feet and laying his head in your lap. You scratch the fur behind his ear and Ghost whines softly.

"See, Ghost already likes you more than me."

"I–" you start, trying to look for the words to convey your inner struggle. You wish you could be with Jon, kiss him, touch him, hold his hand, sit with him at supper and walk through Winter Town with him, but at the same time you can't ignore reality. "I want to, but–"

"You think far too highly of me," Jon says when you don't say anything else. You scoff at him, but he just takes your free hand in his. "The only reason I was raised like a highborn is because of my father but I'm still a bastard." You look up at him at the words, knowing how much it must hurt him to admit. "If anything you're too good for me."

"Now you're just making fun of me," you grumble.

"I would never," Jon says, so painfully earnest.

"May I kiss you?" he asks after a moment and the words make your heart clench tight and your gut tingle in anticipation.

Instead of answering, you pull Jon closer by his hand, tilting your chin up to close the distance between you. His lips are soft and warm on yours, his beard rough under your fingertips as your other hand comes up to trace his jaw.

The kiss is soft, chaste and you pull away after just a moment.

"Please tell me you want more than just this," you breathe, no louder than a whisper in the space between your mouths.

"So much more, [Y/N]. I want it all, everything."

"Gods, Jon," you groan. "Me, too."

You lean in to kiss him again and this time it's anything but chaste. Jon's mouth opens hot beneath yours as his hand comes up to cup the back of your head, threading through your hair. You grip his jaw firmly, holding him in place as you shift to climb into his lap.

Ghost yelps indignantly as the motion dislodges his head from your lap and you break apart, breathing hard.

"Sorry, Ghost," Jon laughs, pressing his forehead to yours. "She's all mine for now."

Ghost's bark sounds almost like laughter as he curls up beside you and you look back at Jon.

"For now?" you ask, heart beating high in your throat.

"For always," Jon says and pulls you in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at [twlesbians](http://www.twlesbians.tumblr.com)


End file.
